Ophidiophobia
by Tekko
Summary: Ophidiophobia; A fear of snakes. Harry has become a successful Mind Healer specializing in animal phobias. A case from an ex-nemesis may prove to be more than he can handle. Yaoi, eventual lemon.
1. First Impressions

**Author's Notes**: 'Lo all! Miss me? So I realize I say this a LOT but I le'fail *looks sadly upon dozens of half-finished stories* I know I have _other_ stuff to work on but my mind has fallen far from my beloved KH fandom and been beaten near-to-death by the wonderful world of Harry Potter. I have a few ideas kicking around, some of which will (hopefully) make it on to FF

**Warnings: **Terrible psychology, swearing and eventual man-man action

**Other: ** New computer! It is about a zillion times faster than my old comp so maybe it'll do the same for my writing (Hahaha!...ha.)

"It's alright." Harry coaxed, his voice low and soothing. "You've made great progress so far. Just a bit more and you're done."

The woman, an older witch with strands of white in her dark hair like a dusting of fallen snow, pulled her gaze away from the glass display case with some struggled to scan his face. Pale blue eyes fixed on the scar on his forehead and Harry gave his most encouraging smile. While he wasn't sure what she (or any of the patients that he treated) looked for when they studied his scar they always seemed to find it on the dark, jagged skin. This time was no different; as he watched she squared her shoulders, standing to her full height (though the top of her head barely reached his shoulders) and turned back to the open case. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'll do it."

She reached forward then and with hands that only _slightly_ trembled and scooped up one of the furry black mice inside.

"Fantastic!" Harry was beaming as she held the mouse curiously nosing her cupped fingers, the older witch seemingly frozen in shock rather than terror. "You're holding a mouse! how does it feel?"

A bit of the daze wore off and her gaze darted from the rodent to Harry then back. "I - I don't know. All of these years I thought that they would feel slimy, dirty, oily..." With the slowness of a deer approaching a lion's den she raised her other hand to brush barely over the mouse's furry head. "But it's- soft. Warm. Delicate."

Raising a calloused hand to her shoulder Harry squeezed. "I'm proud of you. It took no time at all for you to face and conquer your fear."

There was hardly a shake in her hand as she set the mouse back with its kin, shaking her head. "Oh, I couldn't have done it without you, Mr.- _Mind Healer_ Potter," she corrected, cheeks flushed with what Harry was going to say was pride in herself. The other thought was too unsettling for a woman nearly three times his age.

"You found the strength within yourself," Harry replied. "And really, just Harry is fine."

Harry was glad to see Mrs. Humperdinkle recover from her near life long fear. A month ago when they had started on the extensive treatment she would begin to sweat when just talking about mice and she came near to fainting when he had shown her some wizarding photos. It paid off in the end; even as he chatted over some continuous treatment for her to keep up with she reached out and placed a few steady fingers against the glass, watching the mice inside in fascination rather than horror. "Perhaps I'll be able to stay with my daughter for a visit," she said, looking pleased. "My grandson has a pet mouse that that he's been wanting to show me for some time. I thank you again, Mr.- Harry. Your payment should be deposited into your Gringotts vault within an hour."

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. Humperdinkle. Hopefully you won't be needing me again."

"Ah, a pity that." she sighed and Harry watched as she left the pet shop, letting out a huff of breath after the door had closed behind her.

"Tough case?"

Turning towards the familiar voice Harry grinned. "Not as bad as some. Thanks for letting me use your shop again, Dean."

The former Gryffindor waved a casual hand. "Anytime. It's great for business. Besides, it's the only time I get to see you," he added with a grin. "Speaking of you being a terrible friend who only comes around to mooch, I have a Tri-Colored Spitter who won't eat. Work your magic, yeah?"

"You can't call it mooching if I'm working in payment!" Harry knew it wasn't a serious jibe but he did feel bad that he only came around during times of need. He was just so _busy_. Harry didn't like taking any intentional time off and after passing his exams in Mind Healing there had rarely been even a weekend spent just doing nothing. Making his way to the back of the store Harry considered the last year and a half. _/Has it been that long since I graduated? It doesn't feel like it./_

There were only a few familiar figures in the glass display cases but word traveled fast. More than a few hissed greetings and a demand for attention met Harry as he stepped into the temperature controlled room and he smiled, feeling at home. _"Hello, my brothers and sisters. I see that you are well."_ It wasn't often that Harry got to use his skills as a parselmouth (just two of his prior patients had a fear of snakes) and again he told himself that he would come and visit Dean _and_ his 'kin' during a time when he wasn't in need of one of his friend's creatures.

It didn't take long to find the snake that Dean had mentioned. It was one of the few who did not call out to him and wasn't sleeping, curled in on itself in a ripple of soft blue, grey and black. There was a pool and layers of gray pebbles meant to mimic its habitat and dull grey eyes tracked Harry's progress towards the glass display case, Harry himself crouching to come eye level with the snake.

_"Good afternoon, friend,"_ he greeted, watching as the snake's head twitched slightly. Many were surprised at his ability when first meeting him and while it usually made them regard him in higher standing than others, that didn't always mean that they would be friendly or open to him instantly. _"I am told that you have not eaten since your arrival here. Would you tell me why that is?"_

The snake sat so still and quiet for so long that Harry thought that he was being ignored. After a few stretched moments the creature seemed to sigh- or hiss, to the untrained ear- coils relaxing minutely. _"I have not been given food,"_ it replied, tongue flicking in Harry's direction. _"Only pink, scaleless creatures twice my width. They are not my prey."_

Harry nodded, catching on to the problem. _"I understand. It will be fixed, I promise you."_

With that Harry headed out of the room, promising that he would be back in a moment to those who called out after him and went to the front where Dean was holding down the fort. The other hadn't been lying when he said Harry brought in business; before he had come in with Mrs. Humperdinkle there had been two other customers in the shop. At the moment there had to be closer to twenty roaming about, trying to look nonchalant as they peered into displays with birds and pygmy puffs and a Blast-Ended Skrewt though the 'casual' glances over to him as he appeared was ruined by the slack-jawed awe. Ignoring the stares from years of practice Harry waited until Dean finished ringing through a tall brunet witch before speaking up. "So, the Spitter. What sort of snake is it?"

Dean turned to frown at him, taking up the Kneazle snacks he had been setting on display. "A water snake. Isn't that obvious?"

"And what have you been trying to feed it?"

The other man cocked his head, expression saying that he thought Harry was mad but going along with it anyway. "Pinkies. Why all the- ohhh that was stupid, wasn't it?"

"Yup, very much so," Harry chirped as Dean banged his forehead against the counter. "Where are the feeder fish?"

Not lifting his head the other waved in the general direction of the far aisle. "The very back wall. Do tell him I'm sorry for being such an idiot, yeah?"

Reaching out to pat the other on the back Harry turned. "I'll consider it. Though _she_ might not be so inclined to forgive you."

"Ah, sod off already."

Chuckling to himself Harry went to where the small fish were kept, glancing back to see Dean already recovered and ringing though a small lineup of customers. He'd stick around for a bit and take in any complaints from the serpents as well as tending to those who needed- or demanded- it. It was the least he could do.

~.~.~.~.~

Draco was running as fast as he possibly could. Hair bounced into his eyes, sweat prickled his skin and slid down his face and his heart slammed against his ribs with force enough that felt fit to burst. Even so it was growing closer, the soft sound of parchment over wood creeping up behind him. Panic was his world, hot-white and all consuming and he couldn't tell up from down, left from right.

It caught him.

A scream rose in Draco's throat as the first coils caught his ankles but was quickly choked off by a rope of thick muscle. He tried to breathe but couldn't; every breath he had taken was being squeezed out of him, puff by puff, inch by precious inch. Even though he wanted so much to close his eyes they stayed open and fixed as bright golden ones became visible, a narrow tongue flicking out towards him as if to taste the fear in his sweat.

_/Oh Merlin, oh no, no, nononono.../_

The huge mouth parted, hollow fangs folding down. Draco saw the tips dripping with venom and the endless black pit of Nagini's throat before she struck, one fang sinking into his right eye as the other dug into his cheek.

"Draco!"

Grey eyes snapped open and Draco laid in sweat-stained sheets, frozen. The dream had been one of his more vivid ones and his body was shaking from the after effects, limbs trembling from where they'd wound up twisted in his blanket. He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't blink. Draco knew that if he did too soon all he would see was Nagini, poised to strike, fangs hollow and aching to tear into his flesh-

"Draco."

Starting at the sound of his voice Draco turned his head towards the doorway to his bedroom. He was bolt-upright a second after that, only the tangle of sheets keeping him in bed.

His mother stood there, the last of her shield charm fading as he watched. The door frame, along with the doors and part of the wall, was scorched black from what looked to have been an inferno. As he watched curls of paint chipped away and fell to the ground, turning to ash almost before it struck. His mother stood in the midst of the disaster and nausea twisted in his stomach at what he had almost done.

"I think," she said quietly, hands folded in front of the white night robes she wore. "That it is past due for you to seek help."

Draco could only swallow, bowing his head. He knew that the war had scarred him. The Dark Lord had left his mark on everyone in wizarding Britain, be it directly or indirectly. The fact that he could lash out as his mother in his sleep with such destructive force..

"I agree." His voice was horse and dry. It was likely his screaming that had brought her to his room in the first place. "I will seek a Mind Healer immediately."

Though Draco was not watching her he knew that she would have nodded at his words. "Very good. I'll have Piffy tend to this." She didn't need to say what 'this' meant. "Goodnight, Draco."

_/I doubt I'll ever have one of those again./ _Aloud Draco replied, "Goodnight, Mother."

After his mother had gone and the house-elf tended to the smoldering fixtures as well as banishing the smoke and smell Draco untangled himself from his sheets and took up his wand, casting a _Tempus_ to check the time. It would be another couple of hours before any businesses were up but St. Mungos was always open. He would owl there to ask for a list of the best Mind Healers there were.

Perhaps there would be someone willing to take him who wouldn't go running to the papers about his problem before he was healed. Somehow Draco doubted it.

~.~.~.~.~

The following day, Harry was sitting at breakfast and looking over requests for his help when a Barn owl swooped in and towards him.

Harry knew that his home was warded against packages from strangers and hexed letters but he was quick to take up his wand and cast a charm to check just in case, holding his arm up when there was no tell-tale glow from the bird. It slowed from it's swoop to settle on his forearm and fixed dark eyes on him, thrusting its leg at him in silence.

"Well, hello to you, too," Harry murmured as he used his free hand to undo the tie holding the letter in place. Once freed the bird of prey sent a pointed look to his dish and Harry chuckled, setting the rolled letter down to offer up a piece of toast. The heart-shaped head cocked at him in what could only been taken as an 'are you serious?' expression and Harry switched the toast for some crisp bacon. That seemed to do the trick as the piece was snatched up, owl hopping up his arm and onto his shoulder to eat. "Whoever owns you has spoiled you rotten," he commented and was thoroughly ignored, turning back to the letter with both hands to unroll it.

_To Potter,_

That opening had him glancing down to see the signature at the bottom and he nearly jolted in shock. _/Malfoy?/_ Quickly, he went up to continue reading.

_Know that I am only writing you out of dire need. I have been told that you are the best Mind Healer of the last decade and to be honest I trust you more with this than I would anyone else._

"Miracles do happen," he muttered, unaware of the bits of bacon dropping onto his shoulder as he continued.

_I have been plagued with nightmares and struggling with an irrational fear of a long-dead snake for years. I know that it is impossible for Nagini to hunt me when I am awake and aware but it is impossible to keep such facts about when struggling with such vivid dreams. If talking with you is what it will take the fix this problem then I am more than willing to do so._

_It is something that I had been willing to suffer in silence for for some time. Until last night. In the fit of my dreams there was an incident with some accidental magic that nearly cost me Mother._

Harry whistled, brows high. He had been considering tossing the letter aside to go for a patient who actually needed help and wasn't over exaggerating but if what Malfoy said was true, he was long overdue for treatment. Claws pinched briefly at his shoulder and Harry reached out blindly for another piece of bacon, handing it off to the owl while his eyes ran over the page.

_Adelais will carry back your response. The sooner you can reply, the better; I wish to have a Mind Healer arranged before the end of the day._

_Draco Malfoy_

Harry chewed absently at his lower lip as he considered the letter before him. He hadn't had contact with the Malfoys since the Death Eater trials and even then, that was more than five years ago. Their contact before that had always been volatile. Would they even be able to sit in a room together without exploding?

_/We're both grown men./_ Shaking himself and earning a dig in his shoulder for upsetting Adelais Harry gave the owl's chest a light stroke in apology. _/And I'm a professional, even if he wants to be a prat. It's something to consider./ _Setting the letter aside Harry went back to looking over the others even though his mind had already made itself up. After twenty minutes and relinquishing the last two pieces of bacon Harry summoned a quill, writing under the ornate signature.

_To Mr. Malfoy,_

_I've recently become available and am willing to start treatment as soon as you are able. Meet me at noon at my office on Linton and Bran._

_Harry Potter._

_~.~.~.~.~_

Draco arrived ten minutes early, smoothing his palms down his rich cream-colored robes after coming out of Apperation. It wasn't that they had gotten wrinkled or dusty. The motion was more to cover his own nervousness, which he did not allow to show on his face. Looking around Draco took note of the buildings that lined the street, a coffee shop and two restaurants scattered among others before a _crack_ behind him alerted him to another arrival, turning towards the sound. "Potter," he greeted in a neutral tone though his mind reeled with shock.

Potter had- grown. Not so much in height that he was a giant of a man but he had filled out a bit, less scrawny and scrappy like a alley pup and more like man. He would never be large by any means but his presence seemed to reach out like the black smoke of a volcano, touching all within reach.

_/Or grasping them like the coils of a giant snake./_

"Mr. Malfoy," Potter greeted him, which sent a different sort of shock through Draco. He hadn't heard the voice in years but the tone directed to him was so- mild. Almost pleasant. "My office is just this way. If you would." The dark-haired male swept by Draco then, leaving the former Slytherin little choice but to follow.

The office, it turned out, was above the little coffee shop that Draco had noticed upon arriving. Going through a doorway and up a set of stairs Draco found the way opening up to what looked like a sitting room converted into an office with the addition of a desk, a set of large chairs stationed on either side of it and some cabinets for files. There was a decent fireplace and a comfortable-looking brown and tan couch as well as a coffee table and a set of smaller, though also plush, overstuffed chairs.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." Potter was moving to the desk, pulling out a drawer on the side to pull out a folder before fixing calm green eyes on Draco. The blond paused, considering the options before taking up residence in one of the overstuffed chairs. It was his proper training that kept Draco from moaning and sinking deeper into the cushions. Undetected until he sat down were charms woven into the furnishing that made the back and seat of the chair mold perfectly to his form. With a nod Potter moved to settled in the other seat, giving a quiet sigh himself before setting the file on the table between them.

"From what I understand your nightmares come from a fear of Vold- the Dark Lord's snake," he said, sending a quiet smile Draco's way. _/What's Potter's game? Why did he-/_ It was then Draco realized that the other had avoided saying his name as it still made witches and wizards alike cringe with fear. Draco himself had begun to tense without realizing it. "But I need to know how deep it goes. Is it _just_ Nagini that draws such reactions to you or is it a fear of snakes in general?"

"I'm not afraid of snakes," Draco snapped even as doubt twinged in the back of his mind. To be honest he had never been fond of the creatures - to him Slytherin was more of a concept, not something to be taken literally - but he wouldn't have called it a fear. They were just some unpleasant thing that was out there, somewhere in the world that he would never have to deal with short of a trek through a forest.

The folder was pushed towards him and Potter motioned. "Even so, this is something that helps me asses the depth of the case and will let me know how to begin. I'd like you to look through those photographs and tell me how you feel."

_/Alright, so they're pictures of snakes,/_ Draco thought, pulling the folder towards him. _/No big deal. I had an animal photo book when I was a child that had a snake in it./_ With that in mind he flipped the top open with a casual flick of his wrist.

It didn't look to be a very large snake. It was a vivid shades of bright green, curled up near the trunk of a tree on a branch and apparently asleep. Even so Draco felt his breath hitch, heart stuttering in his chest and nearly snatched his hand away. _/Don't be an idiot! It's just a picture. It's not even _doing_ anything!/_

"How do you feel?"

Licking his lips Draco considered his reactions. Then he considered lying. But Potter had actually been fairly decent to him and entirely professional and Draco knew that the other man couldn't help him if he hid the truth. "Uncomfortable," he admitted, licking his lips. "More so than I should be."

Potter was quiet for a moment and Draco didn't look up, gaze fixed on the photograph. "Turn to the next one, please."

Reaching out to grasp the very edge of the picture Draco flipped it face-down on the other side of the file to expose the second. He did jerk his hand back before he could stop himself, lip curling in disgust.

It was a different snake, this one almost exactly the color of the sand it was slithering across. It was just moving, the long body twisting in a constant _S_ to slide sideways- "_Sideways?_ How can it even- ugh!" The muscled body curled and slid and Draco could imagine how it would look to its prey, impossibly long and too fast to get away from and-

"The next one, please."

Potter's voice was a quiet command and Draco clenched his jaw together as he reached for the corner of the second photo, hands trembling slightly as he did so. Alright, so maybe he was a _bit_ wary of snakes. It wasn't as if going through this would help with his nightmares. It'd likely just give Nagini friends to fuck with his mind with.

Grasping the corner Draco flicked the second photo quickly over, nearly breathing in relief as he did the motion. Then he was halfway across the room, doubled over as he gagged.

The third photo was with a snake he actually did recognize from the extended hood around its head, lunging with its fangs extended and sinking them into a rat. The picture had no sound and Draco had moved as the cobra struck, so he didn't see what happened next but he didn't need to. He could hear the rat's shrieks of pain in his mind, it struggling and thrashing while venom was pumped into its body, its screams getting weaker and weaker as Nagini reared up and begun to swallow him whole and he was _still alive_-

"Draco, I need you to take a deep breath." The voice- was there someone in there with him? "Come on, breathe for me. That's right, in, hold it, then out. In, hold it, then out. In..."

Following the instructions as best as he could Draco slowly came back to himself, noticing the trembling of his limbs and churning of his stomach as he did so. He was on his knees, crouched in the corner of Potter's office with his hands on his head as if to protect him from a blow and a taste like the dead in his mouth. When he opened his eyes all he could see for a moment was a damp spot in the carpeting where the contents of his stomach fell before Potter vanished it away and then a glass swam into view, half-filled with water. "Sip this, slowly."

Draco didn't hesitate, a trembling hand reaching for the glass to bring to his lips. He knew that Potter was pants at potions anyway and the other had no reason to try to poison him. Yet. Unless soiling the carpet was some abdominal offence.

As the trembling begun to fade and the glass was slowly drained Potter sat back on his heels. "From what I've observed," he said quietly. "I would say that either your nightmares from Nagini have stemmed into a fear of all snakes or you had a discomfort of them that was amplified after your encounter. I see two ways of you getting past this and on with your life." Looking up Draco met the calm gaze, Potter holding up a hand with a finger ticking off his reasoning. "For one, you could get a skilled Legilimens to suppress the memories for you. It wouldn't help with any fear of snakes before the trauma, if you had any, but I take it that you aren't regularly in contact with them?" At Draco's head shake the dark haired male continued. "Second, you can allow me to work with you to get over the fear. I have to warn you, I won't allow you to back away or hide from this," Potter said softly but firmly, expression solemn. "You'll be forced to confront this head-on. For a case such as yours I would recommend a total immersion and have you stay at a center- one of my homes in this case," Potter said at the sharp look Draco sent his way. "If you're not comfortable with that idea I can make a list of Legilimens for you to go see."

Setting the empty glass on the dark carpet Draco spoke, voice a bit horse. "Trying to scare me away, Potter?" The blond shook his head. "No, I will not have someone tromping around in my mind." The one person he would have trusted to do such a thing was years dead and Draco had no intention of letting himself be in such a vulnerable state before a possible enemy.

_/So what is Potter to me?/_ Studying the other male from under pale lashes Draco couldn't quite bring himself to calling him an enemy, even if he didn't consider Potter to be an ally as of yet. It was beyond him to consider the other as his Healer as well. They were more than acquainted but other than what he'd heard from the papers and gossip what did Draco really know about the Boy Who Lived?

Draco licked his lips, body and breathing under control once again and his own grey eyes narrowed on the other. "I'll accept your treatment under one condition."

There was a flicker of something in Potter's gaze before it cleared away, his head dipping in acknowledgement.

"Never expect any tittles from me, _Potter._"

The reaction wasn't what Draco expected at all. Potter laughed, a surprised hitch to it, his lips spreading in a smile and eyes squinting so that there was just a sparkle of green seen behind a layer of glass. "Somehow I couldn't see you calling me anything other than Potter even if I became Minister," he said with a bit of a grin. "I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Malfoy."

"Stop that as well," Draco snapped, rising to his feet with a billow of robes. The blond brushed absently at the material, flicking away any stray dust that might have gathered. "If you're going to call me anything leave it at Malfoy."

He couldn't say _why_ it disturbed him to have Potter call him by his title. Part of it had to do with reminding him of his father but it was more than that. Coming from Potter it didn't make him feel anything but unnerved. "When do want me to go with you?"

"As soon as possible," came the immediate answer. "I'd like to have you settled in today, if possible. If not the next few days will work. I won't take you away from your work or any prior arrangements you've made but I will demand any free time that you have from here on out."

Draco nodded. "Alright. Give me the coordinates and I'll be by later this evening."

Potter prattled off the Apparation coordinates and Draco took note of it, nodding. "That will get you inside the wards," he was saying. "I'll attune them to you and be there to show you to your rooms. It isn't as luxurious as the Manor so you'll have to put up with tending to your own needs and eating my cooking, or making do on your own."

"Wait, you _live_ here?"

"I will be staying for the duration of your stay," Potter replied, glancing sideways at Draco. "To be there for when you need me as well as to be able to better tend to and observe you. And it is my house," he added in a tone that could have almost passed for dry. "Any questions?" After a moment's consideration Draco shook his head. "Alright.I'll see you tonight, then."

Minutes later Draco was walking away from the office, opting on going the several blocks to Diagon Alley on foot rather than Apparating. He would pick up some shopping that his mother has asked of him when he mentioned going out then return home to tell her of how the first meeting with Potter went. Draco wasn't sure if he should be pleased that things had gone so well or nervous as to what to expect of the house and his future treatments. _/Mother won't have to worry about me blowing up half the Manor, at least,/_ Draco thought as he rounded a corner. _/That's Potter's problem now./_

~.~.~.~.~

Popping into the little cottage on the countryside that he'd arranged for their stay Harry took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. The meeting had gone surprisingly well; not so much for Malfoy's mental health but well considering it was he and _Malfoy,_ together in a room and not trying to bludgeon each other senseless. The prat had been tolerable.

_/More than tolerable and rather easy on the eyes./_ Harry hadn't missed the way the light robes flushed against his figure when Malfoy walked, each sway giving a teaser to the body that lay underneath. It had made Harry feel shabby in his own forest green set but if Draco found them lacking he hadn't commented.

_/And cut that train of thought off right now. Just because it's been ages doesn't make it appropriate. Especially not with a patient./_

Drawing his wand Harry adjusted to wards to allow Draco to land on the property rather than re-directing him away and set to using Vanishing spells on the dust that had collected, changing sheets and pillowcases and checking the pantry for stock. It had been some months since he'd been there and Harry wanted to make sure that there were few excuses for Malfoy to use to back out of treatment. It wasn't just the memory of the boy who he'd fought that brought the thought to him; Harry had one of his tougher cases claim that they couldn't continue treatment because 'the furniture clashed with the wall coloring and was too distracting for him.

Harry didn't let that stop them, nor would he let a lack of proper bedding and nourishment stop him now. _/I don't think you realize what you've signed up for, Malfoy, but there's no backing down now. Like it or not, we're together through hell or high water. You can bet on that./_


	2. Pushing Buttons

**Author's Notes:** Finally, chapter two! I'm hoping to get to a bit more excitement in the chapter that will follow. Sorry about the wait! I actually work on this for about an hour a week, writing on paper when I have the time before re-typing D:

**Warnings:** Some good old English swearing and a less-than-dressed Potter.

**Other:** I would love a nap right now. Or caramel corn that doesn't taste like Chinese food, anyway :x

* * *

Draco, after landing out of Apperation, was pleasantly surprised with the cottage that stood before him. It was true no home could hope to be anywhere near the grand beauty of Malfoy Manor but it had a quaint elegance to it that he could appreciate. It was put together with mortar and stones that alternated in shades of grey, ranging from dark as a summer storm to near-white. There was a stone path leading up to its front door in which Draco had landed on, midway between the cottage and the stone wall that started the defensive wards shimmering around the area. There were wards on the cottage itself, he noted, not all of which he recognized.

The front door opened just as Draco started towards the cottage and Potter stepped out, looking rather at home in the Muggle jeans and red button-up shirt he wore. "You made it," he said by way of greeting, stepping out past the front garden where vibrant purple and white flowers bobbed in a gentle breeze. The grass in the area inside of the wards had been cut low and Draco couldn't place his relief at that.

"Of course I did," Draco sniffed, moving to meet Potter with a pair of trunks floating obediently behind him. "Thought I would change my mind?"

The flush that flooded the Savior's cheeks was answer enough to that question, even without Potter tugging at his forelock a moment later. "It wouldn't have been the first time it's happened with a client," he muttered.

"Well, _I'm_ not just any client," Draco snapped, back straightening. "I'm a _Malfoy_. That makes all the difference. Now do you plan to show me in or are we going to stand out here for the duration of my treatment?"

Strangely the flare of annoyance seemed to ground Potter. He let go of the helplessly mangled bang and nodded, turning to the cottage. "Of course. I'll show you to your room."

The inside, Draco saw, was done in warm colors and looked more like a house than the countryside cottage that it appeared to be on the outside. Wizard Space gave way to more rooms, walls done in cream with wooden boarders and flooring finished with a dark stain. "Feel free to make use of any room," Potter was saying, walking past an unlit fireplace. "There's a Floo for communication but it won't work for travel. Keep that in mind should you feel homesick." Potter paused before a closed door. "This is where I'll be when I'm not to be found around the house or outside. Needless to say you can come to me in an emergency but I'll ask you not to wander in at will."

"You said a moment ago that I could make use of any room that suits my fancy," Draco pointed out, a touch of smugness in his tone.

Potter turned again though this time it was to arch a brow at Draco in a way that made the blond think he'd been practicing in a mirror. "I'll only be using it for work, sometimes, and sleeping. Should I be worried about you stealing away into my bedroom in the wee hours of the night?"

Several such scenarios popped into Draco's mind at the words and he just managed to keep the flush, as well as his own horror, at bay. _/Mind out of the gutter! It's _Potter_, for fuck's sake!/_

I may have to make something up for just such an occasion," Draco replied instead, glad to hear his voice a lazy drawl. Rather than the scowl or flushed glare he was expecting Potter just rolled his eyes, moving on. Draco followed, contemplating.

"This is the master bath. I'll usually just use the other one for a shower. And this-" Potter went on, pushing the door next to the washroom open. "Will be your room."

As Draco entered the room to look around he was somewhat pleased to note the lines of tension in from the other out of the corner of his eye. _/He cares about my opinion That or he's bracing himself for criticism./_ Obviously Potter thought he would be measuring everything up to the Manor's standards. _/As if I'd be so unreasonable. There's no place near as lovely as the Manor./_

It was a simple room, done in the same cream-and-brown as the rest of the place. _/No points for creativity./_ The bed was queen-sized with a green and gold duvet that Draco wanted to sink into, the matching pillows fluffed and just as appealing. The rest of the furnishings consisted of a desk with a solid wooden chair, a pair of dark brown dressers, two nightstands with glass vases for fairylights and a rectangular carpet of a green two shades darker than that of the bed set at the food of the closet doors were closed as well as the drapes but the gauzy white material let in more light than it blocked out.

Walking over to the accordion doors of the closet Draco pulled them open, taking in the space of the walk-in with more room for hanging robes and placing shoes than he expected. "Acceptable," he said as he turned, wand out to march his trunks over and start unpacking. "I never thought you could be counted upon for good taste, if not creativity."

Draco wasn't looking at the other but he didn't have to be to catch the sigh, wand waving through the motions of unpacking. "I'll leave you to get settled in," Potter said and a moment later the door closed quietly behind him.

Alone in the room Draco took a deep breath, letting it out in a quiet puff. If Potter could still be controlled (somewhat) with barbed words then perhaps he'll get through the time spent together after all. If Draco was going to be exposing vulnerabilities he wanted to at least be able to hurt the one doing so, even if it was to help him.

Once unpacked he checked to see if the bed was as comfortable as it looked (it was) then set about making use of the parchment and quill to write his mother. Floo or not Draco wanted to keep his initial thoughts from Potter. Let the Golden Boy think what he will.

~.~.~.~.~

Harry gave his client (he had to repeat _'my client'_ in his mind over and over again as part of detaching himself from the situation and to not take anything the blond said that wasn't relevant to his healing too personally) the rest of the afternoon and evening to get comfortable with the house. Their first dinner together of baked salmon with garden salad and broth-made rice was meet with a cool look and a first delicate, tasting bite. Harry scolded himself even as his insides twisted anxiously until Malfoy took another bite, followed up with finishing his plate (and event that took much longer than Harry thought it should have. Really, how did someone enjoy food when having such tiny portions at a time?). Afterwards they parted ways, Harry telling the blond to be ready to work before breakfast.

"That's obscene," Malfoy replied with a delicate sniff. "Why before?"

"Because the last time we worked on this you got quite ill," Harry said, keeping his tone low and soothing. "Better to be on an empty stomach."

Malfoy nodded stiffly and turned to march off to his room, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

The following morning at precisely 7:30 the blond blew into the sitting room, immaculate from the ends of slicked-back hair to the hem of his robes, which were as blue as the deep ocean. Harry felt rather under dressed in his Muggle jeans and loose t-shirt.

"You don't have to dress so formally, you know," Harry said when the blond had settled into the plush armchair opposite from him.

Slate-colored eyes gave him a rather smug look, lashes dipping as he gave Harry a pointed once-over. A slight smirk pulled at Malfoy's lips a moment later. "I know."

Harry, thanks to his new morning routine, didn't snap at the blond. Instead he nodded and motioned to the parchment and quill set in an inkwell that was between them on the coffee table. "I want to start first by having you articulate exactly how and when your phobia began to manifest," he said, sitting back in the armchair. If you can't tell me outright, please write it down."

~.~.~.~.~

_/He knows words like 'articulate'?/_ It was on the tip of his tongue to put voice to his thoughts and Draco fought it down with effort. Aggravating Potter into a shouting match would make him feel better but it wouldn't _help_. The blond did allow himself an arched brow, pointedly taking up the quill. It had been difficult enough writing the letter to Potter in the first place with a steady hand. Draco would hate for his voice to crack or break.

Quill to parchment, he wrote.

_In the duration of the Dark Lord's stay at the Manor-_

Draco stopped, pressing his hand down more firmly against the sheet and table so as to hide the trembling and keep from blotting the page. It didn't mater. The quill's strands shuddered and bounced, each fiber catching ever tremble.

Slapping the betraying tool down Draco folded his hands together, sitting back. "I may as well say it outright," he said, the drawl coming out quieter than he intended. "You would want me to read them aloud to you next, if I'm not mistaken."

Potter tipped his head slightly in what could have been a nod. "Eventually. You need to be able to explain your fears; it's the first step to getting over them."

Draco's hands felt damp against his skin and he rubbed his fingers at the back of his hands, swallowing. Even with those ridiculous glasses Draco could see the deep green of his eyes, direct and unblinking. Shifting his own to the hands folded over his lap Draco sat back, taking a quiet, steadying breath. _/Just get it out. Over and done with./_

"In the duration of the Dark Lord's stay at the Manor," he began, eyes on the elegant words on the page. "The world was nothing but pain and terror. My nightmares are not always about - it." Swallowing Draco pushed on, the same way he pushed the memories trying to claw their way to the forefront of his mind away. "Sometimes I wake up in the dark, cold and covered with sweat, still thinking that the was isn't over. That when I get up there will be Death Eaters destroying priceless artwork in the halls, the screams of Muggleborns and half-bloods in the basement and _him, _set in my father's chair as if he were at home. That was one of the worst things, I think. Seeing our home defiled and used to hide unspeakable things and him at the center, my father a trembling shell in the background."

Potter kept silent for which Draco was glad for. No amount of pushing would keep the images from replaying themselves in his mind, the table with quill and parchment no longer seen by him. "He would bring people in," Draco continued, expression gone blank. "Muggles, half-bloods, Muggleborns - whoever he fancied at the time - and torture them. Or have one of us torture them, suggesting spells when one wasn't painful or bloody enough for his liking." Draco was unaware of the tremors running through his body, his own bouts of torturing recalling the fear and anguish and regret from the past. "He rarely killed them himself, though. When they were broken and battered and voices raw from screaming, he would send the s-snake after them." Closing his eyes didn't stop the memories from dancing across his mind's eye. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "It would eat them _alive_."

And Draco could recall every face. Every man, woman and (thankfully rare but not nearly rare enough) child who were subjected to the treatment of the Dark Lord. He would command the beast with low, hissing words that were like nails scratching along the eardrum and then explain in the same calm, low tone to those in the area what was going to be done.

It always swallowed them from the feet-up to allow the panicked screaming to last as long as possible.

Somehow Draco found his voice again, body cold all over even with his layers and hands clenched so hard together his nails bit into the skin, knuckles gone white. "It wasn't always at his side in the Manor, not like when he went out," Draco said, distantly wondering who the almost strangled-sounding voice belonged to. "It would roam the Manor alone. When we were allowed to go for rest I would hear it, sometimes, sliding over the carpet in the hall outside of my room. I was afraid that one day I would wake up and it would be halfway down its throat, up to my wrists. Too late to do anything to help myself but not so late as to escape the pain."

The fear was still there, long after the Dark Lord's defeat and Nagini's death. It was as if his subconscious still thought that he was in the war, struggling to stay alive and as unnoticeable as possible. Which was never possible. "Once," Draco continued, the words dragging themselves from out of him. "He had it drape over me and bare its fangs. I could see the dripping venom and into the mouth - down its throat when it hissed." Draco could feel the prickles of sweat across his forehead but it was an absently noted thing, like noting the color of the sky. "He said that if I failed the mission given to me he would not only ki - kill my parents, but bind my limbs and leave me as a 'gift' for that thing."

That was worse than the threat of death or torture outright. The idea of being made helpless in the grip of a massive snake such as the Dark Lord's struck a cord of terror in Draco he never wanted to face.

"That's enough."

Jerking out of his own memories Draco blinked to find Potter sitting back, as if he had started to rise but then thought against it. There was a glass of water set on the table that hadn't been there before and Draco took several moments to steady his breathing before reaching for it with hands that shook only slightly. "You've done brilliantly so far. We'll pause for now and come back to things closer to lunch. Alright?"

Draco could only nod, not trusting his voice. Since he started speaking it felt as if a cord had slowly but constantly tightened around his throat and he didn't want to make a fool of himself anymore than he already had.

Potter nodded, rising to his feet and collecting the stationary before heading out of the room. Both weary and thankful Draco was able to rise his feet on unsteady legs, taking several steps before he was able to move somewhat normally. He would have another bath to rid himself of the smell and feel of sweat over his skin, change into something more comfortable than his formal robes and go down to pick at the breakfast Potter would make. It wasn't as if he would be hungry anytime soon.

~.~.~.~.~

Breakfast consisted of easy to eat items, mainly fruit and oatmeal. Draco appreciated it; with the intensely churning emotions hi's mind had been put through it made his insides want to rebel. The mildly sweet cantaloupe, tender honeydew and juicy watermelon were gentle enough for the blond to have half a bowl with a steaming mug of tea. Potter didn't seem inclined to make conversation which the blond was also thankful for. He thought anything that wasn't related to the reason Draco was there for would be awkward and forced, at best.

Draco didn't realize how _hard_ it would be just putting voice to his fears. His parents and Pureblood society had always put emphasis on showing as little emotion as possible, working anger and frustration down to cool, even looks and pleasure to minor tilts of the head, a lightening of the eyes if one was truly pleased. There was no room for fear or indecision.

The late morning lead to more discussion of what had happened with Nagini while the Dark Lord was under his roof, leading into the War itself. Though each sentence seemed to zap bits of strength from him by the time Potter called an end to their day an hour before dinner Draco felt as if he had shed weight he didn't realize he was carrying.

Day by day, piece by piece, the weight was shifted off of his shoulders. By the end of the first week Draco was able to talk about the nightmares and fears he had in a steady voice. Be it the honest green eyes or the open expression on Potter's face, Draco found himself admitting to things he was barely able to admit to himself.

The underlying tension between them eased with time, as well. Potter seemed to turn off his 'work mode' like a switch and never mentioned anything of Draco's vulnerabilities outside of those hours.

At night, Draco found he had little to no trouble going to sleep. The first night he had doused himself with Dreamless Sleep potion, knowing that he would toss and turn all night worrying about what the morning would bring or wake up with his throat raw from screaming, surrounded with the still-smoldering pile of debris that was once Potter's home. Talking to the man seemed to be a soothing balm in itself - that or it left him so mentally exhausted that his mind couldn't be bothered to come up with new gruesome and painful ways for Nagini to kill him.

When they weren't in session together, Draco participated in what was becoming a quickly growing pastime; Potter-watching.

Unlike the blond, Potter didn't care how he looked. The dark-haired wizard would stumble out of his room, hair even more of a mess than usual, bleary-eyed and half-dressed to make his way to the shower (this usually involved several trips as Potter always forgot _something_ be needed, usually fresh pants or his glasses). When he'd finally get it enough together to have his shower and get dressed the man who emerged would be the polar opposite of the one that went in, bright-eyed and alert, ready to begin the day.

Though he would make breakfast, Potter tended to have just toast or poached eggs in the morning with strong tea or water. Lunch was a bigger affair with Potter taking twice as much of whatever was made then Draco had. Dinner, a more normal portion.

Potter's smiles were quiet but his laughs full and loud. He was utterly useless in the morning before his shower. He took criticism with surprising grace and looked at Draco with none of the old hatted that had hung between them in their schoolboy days. During sessions he let Draco get off subject but would steer the conversation back on track with a few careful questions or mild words.

_/I am _not_ obsessing. Not again._/

Draco's thoughts were starting to take a dangerous turn just midway through the second week of his stay. How much worse would his infatuation get by the third week? A month?

It was with that thought in mind that Draco marched to Potter's bedroom that morning, rapping sharply on the door. It was almost time for the brunet to make his zombie-like stumbling to the shower, anyway. A few minutes earlier wouldn't hurt. With the Silencing Charm in place the blond couldn't tell if the other was up yet or not but after a few moments he raised his hand to knock again when the door was pulled open and Draco's throat went dry.

Potter, in his usual form, was still in the loose blue and yellow plaid (Merlin, why was he allowed to_ dress _himself?) pajama bottoms. His feet and chest were bare, not even the trademark glasses having made an appearance. Hopelessly deep green eyes fixed sleepily on the blond through a forest of sooty lashes, face flushed and hair rattier than a bird's nest and full lips slightly parted. One tanned hand was resting on the door frame and as Draco's gaze dropped he found the other rubbing at a surprisingly fit abdomen, just above his bellybutton. "Malfoy?"

The deep, sleep-roughened voice made Draco's gaze snap back up to Potter's face, refusing to let his cheeks heat. "Morning, Potter," he greeted, pleased to find his voice normal. "I just wanted to let you know that I want to have some actual progress happen today. No more sitting around and having me vent as it has done all it's able to help."

As he spoke awareness begun to seep into the half-dressed male's gaze, lips turning down into a frown. "Malfoy, your case is-"

"Bollocks!" Draco snapped, making the other blink. "I've spend near two _weeks_ just talking and haven't had a nightmare since arriving. That should be plenty of time to have gotten through whatever invisible barriers you've been waiting for me to go through. I want results, Potter, not just to sit stagnate until I'm an old man and my bank account's wrung dry."

Potter's jaw clenched, evident from the way the muscle jumped. He seemed to be having an internal debate with himself but whatever it was, the dark-haired male nodded. "Fine. Let me get dressed and we'll move on to the next step."

The blond shook his head. "No more baby steps, Potter. As lovely as it is here I don't plan on staying forever." With a final quick once-over Draco turned away, starting for the kitchen. "Hurry along. I'd like to have breakfast before we get started." He turned down the hall at that, ignoring what felt like a dozen butterflies taking residence in his stomach and deciding that he could, in the least, make his own tea. It would help settle his nerves and give him something to focus on besides the sight of Potter's bare skin.

~.~.~.~.~

Harry regretted agreeing almost as soon as he was alone in the shower.

_/Damn Malfoy,/_ he thought as his hair was soaked through under the warm spray, reaching blindly for the shampoo. He wouldn't have been pushed so easily into giving in to the prat's unrealistic demands if he'd been more awake - something Harry was sure the other knew and had used to his advantage. While the progress Malfoy had made was fairly good in that he hadn't relapsed it wasn't as much as the blond seemed to think. As for the lack of nightmares, Harry knew that it was due more to the Sleep Stones set under the guest bed than the relaxation of Malfoy's own mind.

_/I should go out and explain./_ The thought was washed away like the shampoo and the dark haired male sighed. He'd seen that expression on Malfoy's face enough to know that anything set to try and deter him from the path he wanted to take would be met with harsh words and even more determination to keep on at it. Harry didn't want them to start that again. The weeks of close contact had given Harry a better understanding of the other and he grasped things about Malfoy's thinking and lifestyle that he never would have otherwise.

Going through the mechanics of his shower Harry allowed another thought to slip in. _/He's braver than I've ever known. Not as robotic, either./_ The time together had allowed him to see more than overwhelming pride, anger and fear from the blond. Malfoy held a slight smile when reading letters from his mother, warmth seeping into those grey eyes. During their sessions, pale and dotted with perspiration, the blond would push doggedly on, seeming to think that if only he could get the words out his problems would be solved.

And in the early mornings when Harry was at his worse and Malfoy didn't realize Harry wasn't _entirely_ blind without his glasses the former hero had caught the blond watching him with an expression Harry was all too familiar with.

Interest.

The blond had ogled him that morning like he was a wizard on the cover of _Witch Weekly_. Harry had no one to blame bt himself, of course. He hadn't thought that he would be appealing in any way to the blond, both due to his gender and the heated history between them. Obviously that was not the case.

Cutting off the shower and any chance to indulge the growing interest of his body Harry Summoned a towel, roughly scrubbing at his skin. _Liar. You like it when he watches you./_

He might have made the excuse of being tired for his multiple trips back and forth in the mornings but in truth he liked those pale eyes on him in a way he didn't enjoy the hungry gaze of the public. The populace in general wanted to consume him completely; not Harry the man but Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived. Malfoy wasn't interested in that (though perhaps he could be, by way of making a better name for himself in association). Malfoy seemed to... _want_ him.

_/And no more of that now!/_ Ripping the towel away Harry winced as he pulled some hairs with it, pushing thoughts of the tall blond away. He would be seeing him in the flesh soon enough. _/He probably won't want anything to do with me after today, anyway. Perhaps this will be good for the both of us./_

_~.~.~.~.~_

They were outside, standing behind the gate that held the wards that surrounded the property. Potter's expression was more troubled than Draco had ever seen it and he knew what was going to come out before the man said, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the hundredth time I'm sure," Draco snapped, though the pounding of his heart said otherwise. "Think of it was a quiz. How can you truly determine how I've progressed without testing me?"

The tousled-haired male studied Draco for so long he thought Potter would change his mind. Instead the nodded, once, sharply. "Alright," Potter said quietly, the vivid green eyes dulled by the glasses. "I wasn't going to, but maybe a bit of shock treatment is due." He turned and stepped beyond the wards then, Draco a step behind him.

The area beyond the wards wasn't much different. The grass grew wild, thick and looked as plush as Potter's hair looked and the birds became slightly louder. Draco didn't see anything out of the ordinary from the fallen log covered in moss or the trees that reached for the heavens twenty feet off or so. Draco's gaze flickered from the grass to Potter, who's head jerked as if he'd been watching Draco and hadn't wanted to be caught staring, eyes fixed on something in the distance. _/As if I couldn't see you out of the corner of my eye./_ Potter opened his mouth and it was on the tip of the blond's tongue to warn him _not_ to ask if Draco was sure again when he heard a sound that turned his blood cold, heart seeming to stop in his chest.

Hissing.

~.~.~.~.~

_'Brothers and sisters, we greet you with welcome. Come and join us.'_

Were he with another patient who had a snake phobia Harry would have taken them, for their final, to Dean's shop for a one-on-one confrontation. As it was Harry was glad he had told Malfoy to leave his wand, doing the same with his own just in case the other thought it to be a was no telling how the blond would react but Harry didn't want him to have the ability to kill any of the snakes that heard his call or hurt either of them. As it was Harry had asked that they not come by for an unexpected visit him so long as Malfoy was there, even going so far as to add wards that would act as a barrier to the more stubborn ones.

In moments, there was a shifting in the grass that wasn't caused but the slight breeze, tall stems parting in perhaps a dozen places. There had been just four when Harry had last visited but one of the females had her brood since. The green and black grass snakes were only _just_ visible and even then only in flashes as the tall grass hid their bodies well, even as it outlined the meter-length of the adults.

A high, sharp sound drew Harry's gaze away from the approaching progression and to Malfoy, alarm jolting through Harry. If Malfoy was pale before he was white as a ghost at the moment, pupils dilated so far Harry would have thought him to be high on some illegal potion if he hadn't known better. Harry raised a hand, taking a step towards the blond. "Malfoy? Are you-"

It was only due to his watching that Harry saw the slight flutter of blond lashes just before grey orbs rolled back. With a startled cry he dove, catching Malfoy as his legs gave from underneath him, the dead weight of the blond's body knocking Harry to the grass.


End file.
